


A Private Show

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They share a joke she can't hear and doesn't miss the way Jensen's gaze drops to Jared's mouth or the way Jared settles deep into Jensen's personal space, elbows and hips fitting together in that way that only comes from long familiarity and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private Show

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a remix to bertee's [Like the Fist of an Angry God](http://atimi.livejournal.com/5867.html) for the j2_remix challenge and initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/26527.html) on 10/15/09.

She doesn't know whose house it is, maybe Gabe's or Paul's. It's a pretty big place, bigger than she'd expected and it's nearly full by the time she and Melissa arrive, people laughing and shouting over the pulse of 80s music emanating from the living room. Plastic cups in varying degrees of emptiness line the bookshelves and staircase and Brent pushes a full one into her hand before she even makes it halfway to the kitchen.

"Just Coors," he says, apologetic even while smiling. "Gotta get here earlier for the good shit."

Grinning, Genevieve nods and takes a sip, pushes past him into the somewhat quieter haven of the kitchen. The counters are covered in bowls of chips and popcorn, trays of half-demolished vegetables, various dips and what looks like the remainder of a shrimp platter. She steals a baby carrot, biting off half as she notes the giant cake in the center of the kitchen table. Unlike everything else, it's still largely intact and covered in a couple dozen unlit pink candles. She barely resists the urge to steal some frosting with the tip of her finger and grabs a few chips instead before heading back into the fray.

The guest of honor doesn't appear to be anywhere in sight, but nobody else seems at all bothered by it, clumps of people standing around talking and laughing and Genevieve wanders through, getting stopped by a few people along the way, all of them telling her how happy they are that she decided to show.

It's not entirely unlike being on set, actually, albeit with the volume turned way up and beer on constant tap. The open friendliness is still the same, the raunchy jokes and loud laughter all comfortably familiar.

She knows the second Jared arrives; his entrance is loud, met with hollers and cheers clearly audible from the other side of the house where she's busy talking to a Crystal, one of the seasoned PAs.

"Oh good," Crystal says, face splitting into a wide smile as she grabs Genevieve by the crook of the elbow and leads her through the throng of people. "This means we finally get cake!"

:::

It doesn't, actually. Because, as Genevieve is amused and wholly unsurprised to observe, Jared has to make a point of greeting just about every last person at the party on his way to the kitchen.

"Gen! Hey!" he says when he spots her lingering back against the wall and heads over. "Didn't think you were gonna come!"

Having seen his smile every day for the past week or so, she should really be used to it by now, but it's still disarming in its utter sincerity. Moreso in the way it's, for the moment, entirely focused on her.

"Yeah, well," she says, lips twitching into an uncontainable smirk as she shrugs, "can't say no to free beer."

Jared answers with a sharp laugh and wraps an arm around her shoulders, forcing her face into his side briefly before pulling back to smile down at her, just a twist of his lips this time, quiet. Almost secretive.

"Glad you're here," he says, softer and Genevieve feels it down to her toes.

:::

It's not a crush. Not exactly. A crush is what happens to thirteen year old girls with unattainable ideas of romance or college students with a hot, possibly morally ambiguous professor. This is different. This is Jared, her co-worker, who's single and flirtatious and a total, oblivious _tease_.

And it's driving Genevieve a little nuts.

He smiles at her across the room, a streak of pink frosting trailing down his chin that he wipes away with the back of his hand before waving and tossing a wink.

She knows it doesn't mean anything; Jared's friendly to everyone, especially after a few drinks and a good helping of sugar.

It doesn't mean anything.

:::

She moves in circles around Jared as the night wears on, always a few dozen feet away from wherever he is. Not stalking, exactly, but just keeping in his orbit, watching him out the corner of her eye as he laughs and downs yet another cup of beer.

Jensen bumps up close to him at one point, his smile wider and warmer than it's ever been on set and Jared lights up like it's suddenly Christmas on top of his birthday. They share a joke she can't hear and doesn't miss the way Jensen's gaze drops to Jared's mouth or the way Jared settles deep into Jensen's personal space, elbows and hips fitting together in that way that only comes from long familiarity and comfort.

Taking another sip of her own beer, she watches them, only half listening to the conversation going on in her own little circle of party-goers.

"Could you _try_ being a little more obvious?" Melissa says a moment later and Genevieve finally tears her eyes away, hiding an embarrassed smile behind the rim of her cup.

"Obvious about what?" she asks, coy.

Melissa rolls her eyes, hides her own smile. "You're just his type, too. This should be fun."

:::

Jared catches her watching a few times, always tosses her a small smile before getting drawn back into the conversation around him.

For a reason Genevieve can't begin to fathom, Jensen's traded in his t-shirt for a white sheet, fabric draped over him like a half-assed toga. His skin looks bronze against it and Jared has his hand curled in the cloth, tugging at it playfully every time Jensen's within three feet of him.

Jensen notices her a couple times and he smiles over his own cup of beer as he twitches his fingers in her direction. It's a nice smile, friendly enough, but guarded, missing that flirtatious edge that Jared possesses so effortlessly. He turns away slower than Jared does, like he's not quite ready to look away, like he's studying her.

She doesn't quite know what to make of it.

:::

An hour later, the party's still in full swing, people pushing into every corner of every room, spilling out into the backyard where they line the swimming pool and back fence.

Humidity still lingers, warming the air, though not harsh enough to be stifling. The pool's lit up from the inside, shimmering crystalline blue in the dark, reminding Genevieve of every party she's ever been to in LA. But the atmosphere is still completely different, people here because they _want_ to be and not because they need to be seen.

"Should've brought my suit," Melissa mutters as they wander to the edge of the pool. She stops to crouch down, reaches her fingertips into the water and looks up at Genevieve with a hint of a smile.

Genevieve grins as she looks from Melissa to the glittering water and back again. "You wanna?"

It's colder than she'd expected when they cannonball in together and she comes to the surface shivering and laughing in equal amounts, hair plastered to her face as the people around the edges cheer them on.

She blinks water away from her eyes, finds the bottom with the tips of her toes. "Holy shit," she laughs, feeling suddenly at lot more sober, but still far too drunk as Melissa splashes at her and dives back under the surface.

:::

Winded, she sits on the steps near the shallow end, hair hanging heavy on her shoulders, clothes drifting weightless under the water, sticking to her skin above. She laughs when yet another crew member (one of the lighting guys this time) hurls himself fully clothed into the water, joining the dozen or so others who've followed her in.

Some of the splash hits her shoulder and she shivers a little from a breeze of cool air. She feels a little like a drowned rat, sopping clothes weighing her down, strands of her hair twisted and tangled and sticking to her face, make-up doubtlessly fucked all to hell.

Peeling the collar of her shirt away from her throat, she takes another look around, searching in equal parts hope and dread. There's no sign of Jared, though, only a few dozen other familiar faces and she honestly doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"Please don't tell me you're sulking."

Melissa grins up at her, half floating in the shallow water and Genevieve tries to hide a guilty smile.

"Not sulking," she says, pushing her leg out to poke at Melissa's side.

"Okay, pining. Whatever. It's annoying."

"Think he left already?"

"Wow, seriously?" Melissa replies with a snort. She links an arm around Genevieve's right leg and starts pulling, dragging her back into the water. Genevieve only makes a half-assed attempt to fight it, letting out a sharp laugh as her upper body is again submerged. "Stop it. I'm not letting you be this pathetic right now."

"I'm just wondering!"

"No, you're not. No more wondering."

Slipping free of the steps, Genevieve dunks into the water, comes back up sputtering and laughing. "Bitch," she manages, squinting through the wetness on her eyelashes and swatting at Melissa. "What's wrong with wondering?"

"Wondering's for losers. He's either here or he isn't, so stop obsessing and come play Fartco Polio with us."

"Fartco Polio?"

Melissa shrugs. "Marco Polo for drunk people. Now, _come on._ "

:::

She's hurrying away from Brent's reaching fingers, grunting, "Polio!" through a laugh when she first notices it.

It's just a flicker of movement high up against the house, barely more than a shift in shadow. Squinting, she searches for the source, gaze raking over the trim of the house and up the siding. Probably a squirrel or some night animal. Maybe a cat.

It happens again a few seconds later and she finally pinpoints the location as the second story window, nearly obscured by the thick branches of the tree in front of it. Squinting, she tries to focus on a definite shape, but light and dark dance together, making her wonder if maybe it's just the reflection of pool water on glass. But then she sees what looks like a hand, palm flat and fingers spread, smashed to the glass pane. Before she can get a better look, there's a heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing her under, laughter above muffled and muted by water.

She breaks the surface a second later, sputtering and laughing, blinking water from her eyes as she swats at Brent's shoulder.

"Tag, you're it," he says, not even flinching.

Genevieve rolls her eyes, but there's a smile still tugging at her lips. Instinctively, she darts a glance back to the window. She isn't surprised to see nothing there at all. Nothing but darkness.

:::

"I think he left," Melissa says some time later. Genevieve's taken her turn as Fartco and she rests against the wall of the pool, warm under the water and chilly above, hair sticking wetly to the sides of her face.

There's no question who she's talking about.

"Kinda early."

Melissa shrugs. "He had an early call. Maybe he's tired."

It's stupid to feel disappointed, she knows that; it's not like she won't ever see him again. The feeling persists though, nagging as she lets out a slow breath, tips her head back to stare up at the sky. The water dips and rocks, sloshes against Genevieve's neck as Melissa pushes away, floating back into the mess of bodies in the middle of the pool.

Bending her knees, Genevieve sinks deeper, water lapping at the skin just below her ears. Nearby city lights obscure most of the stars in the sky, but she can still make out one or two of the brighter ones and she tilts her head a little, trying to call up readings from her freshman year astronomy class to remember if maybe they're actually planets, but her thoughts are derailed by a sliver of movement out the corner of her eye.

Blinking, she glances over to the same spot as before. Once again, the shapes are hazy and indistinct behind the windowpane, little more than shifting shadow, but she can't stop looking. It's a compulsion she can't explain, this need to figure out what's up there and her breath catches minutely when she sees a hand again; the same or different, she doesn't know. It's a guy's, that's easy to tell, fingers thick and palm broad, tapering off to a wrist and forearm that's then swallowed up in darkness.

Laughter rings loud across the water, bounces and echoes, but she keeps her focus on the window, her breath coming faster across the surface of the water.

The hand is grasping, fingers curled and-- no, it's bracing. She makes out a wrist and arm, pale against the dark where it's smashed to the window, shifting half an inch and half an inch more in a steady, hard rhythm. As though--

The realization hits fast and Genevieve tears her eyes away, smirks and ducks her head, lips grazing the surface of the water. She slides a glance over to the side, positive she can't be the only one who's noticed, but ten feet or so away, the party continues, people jumping up and down in the water, laughing and shouting and paying her no attention whatsoever. The few milling around the perimeter of the pool are busy in their individual conversations, sipping on red plastic cups and occasionally glancing down into the water, either in envy or mild judgment.

Biting her lip, she looks up again, back to the window, tries to ignore the flush of heat rising in her cheeks.

It's ridiculous is what it is, this feeling in her gut that she's seeing something she shouldn't when it's clear the subjects are making no real effort to hide. But maybe it's that she seems to be the only one noticing, like it's a weird kind of private show. For her eyes only.

So she stays as she is, mouth hovering over the water, one hand clutched in the weightless fabric of her shirt and watches, stares as the hand on the glass slides higher, slides up, up and up, to reveal a flat, bare chest. Or semi-bare; there's a stretch of white obscuring half of it, draping from one shoulder across to the opposite hip, like a--

Genevieve gasps, quiet and secret, gut clenching tight.

There's no chance for her to second-guess herself when the guy -- very, very clearly a guy -- leans forward, when he's clearly _pushed_ forward, breath fogging the glass a split second before Genevieve gets a good look at his face.

:::

"Jesus, why'd we do this again?"

Genevieve doesn't answer right away, her teeth too busy chattering as she and Melissa huddle around the bathtub, topless and shivering, wringing out their shirts.

"Half the damn crew's gonna call in sick with hypothermia tomorrow, just wait."

"So are Jared and Jensen, like..."

The question comes out of nowhere and Genevieve can't quite bring herself to finish. She keeps her gaze focused on her hands, gripped tight in the sopping fabric of her shirt, twisting hard. She's cold all over, cold down to her bones and not even the slightest bit tipsy. She feels stupid and too sober and _cold_ , wants to get back to her warm hotel room and disappear under the duvet for approximately fifty years.

"Like what?" Melissa asks, sounding distracted as she starts to peel off her pants. "Overgrown twelve year olds?"

"No, I mean--" Genevieve frowns, tries to block out the look she'd seen on Jensen's face earlier, open and obscene in shadow. She thinks about what Melissa had said, about being just Jared's type and grimaces slightly, shaking her head. "Whatever, nevermind."

:::

Her clothes are still damp and cold, hair stringy, sticking to her neck and falling limp over her shoulders as she grabs her coat. Jared's right there, only two feet away and she looks like crap. Somehow she can't really bring herself to care.

Jared's face is flushed, ruddy at least partly from alcohol, and he laughs when he sees her, his smile bright and broad. Genevieve kind of hates the way that, even now, it makes something her stomach twist with want.

"Looks like you had fun," he says, nodding at her wet hair as he runs a hand through his own. She tries not to think about that hand curled around Jensen's hip and offers a weak smile.

"Yeah. Glad I came."

"Me, too," he says and, infuriatingly, sounds like he actually means it as he leans down to wrap her in a hug. Melissa doesn't even bother to hide rolling her eyes, mouthing an, _I told you so_ past his shoulder a second before he turns to do the same to her, crushing her close. She makes a show of it, arms flailing outside his hold, pretending to be squashed in his embrace and Jared's laughing when he lets her go, his smile open and lopsided.

Genevieve only catches part of it, though, her gaze stuck about ten feet away to where Jensen's standing, watching them, white sheet still hanging precariously across one bare shoulder. His lips twitch in the barest smile, not at all unkind, but there's something in his eyes that's all too knowing, makes her feel caught out. Exposed.

She looks away.

"So," Jared says, his voice knocking her attention back. "See you guys tomorrow?"

"Bright and early," she says, shoving aside her sudden uneasiness. "And, you know. Uhm. Happy birthday and all that."

His face lights up again, all white teeth and huge dimples. "Thanks," he says, sounding completely sincere and, despite herself, Genevieve can't help but smile back.

It's going to be a long few months.

 **end.**


End file.
